


Gang Wars

by Aiden_Ravelle



Category: White Collar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 02:57:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12123027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aiden_Ravelle/pseuds/Aiden_Ravelle
Summary: Gang members kidnap Peter but they really want Neal. What happens when Neal trades himself for Peter? Whump!





	Gang Wars

“These guys are dangerous,” Neal confessed to Elizabeth.

Peter hadn’t made it home that night, prompting an investigation late at night. However, they had some information that sped things up.

“I wonder what Reese will do. He’ll be here soon,” Elizabeth said as soon as Neal walked in the door.

Neal seemed rushed when he got in the door.   
  
“El, I need a piece of paper right now,” he said anxiously.

“Neal what’s wrong?” She knew he was worried about Peter, she was too, but he was acting a little strange.

He jotted down a note on the paper she handed him and after folding it he handed it back along with an envelope from his pocket.

“Do not let anyone have this except Peter, please El this is important,” Neal confided, “We are dealing with a gang who is known to get rowdy quick. Tell Hughes it’s the Evil Emperors, he should know who they are. Don’t worry, Peter is going to be safe,” Neal comforted her before running out the door.

“Neal?!” Elizabeth yelled after him but he was gone in the dark of the night.

Hughes and the team arrived soon after, and El told them what Neal had told her, keeping the note from them.

“You’re savior is here,” a large bald man with a deep voice informed Peter. Before Peter could reply he had a bag over his head, so he could breathe but still diminishing sound and making it so he couldn’t see where they were leading him. After a while they stopped. He heard whispers but couldn’t understand anything they were saying.

He heard a car pulling away so he knew he was outside at this point. The large man pulled the bag off of his head and untied his arms. He then got in a different car and headed off. Peter was confused about where he was or what just happened. He searched his pockets looking for a phone to contact someone but it was gone. His wallet and badge were still in his pocket though.

He looked around to try to figure out where to go to use a phone or to get anywhere familiar, but soon he saw a car coming towards him. It was the Marshalls.

“We are looking for a runaway named Neal Caffrey,” they informed him.

He reeled in shock, “I’m his handler,” he sputtered.

They ended up taking Peter home, where he was hugged and welcomed.

“We have a problem,” Peter said as soon as he could get out from the pile of hugs.

El noticed the Marshall standing in the door. 

“No, no, no,” she said in shock.

Peter looked at his wife, and saw the look in her eyes, so he told the group, “Can you give us just a minute?” They went upstairs and as soon as he shut the door he asked, “Did Neal give himself up?”

“I don’t know. He seemed nervous and rushed out of here before the rest of the team showed up. I thought he might be going to Mozzie for some information but he did leave a note for you and an envelope,” she confessed as she pulled out the note.

He took it and read the note first:

“Peter,

Please don’t worry about me. Don’t get more messed up in this. I just want you to know, I never meant for you to get hurt and I am so sorry for having to do this. Don’t come looking for me. Let the Marshalls know I didn’t run, but stop them from looking for me. I don’t want you hurt.

I was going for the same prize they were, a treasure worth millions. I got in their way, because I didn’t know they were after it as well. We ended up having a confrontation during a stakeout and security increased permanently.  They blame me for them not getting it and they want revenge.

Thanks for everything Peter,

  * Neal



P.S. Tell Mozzie to execute Plan Z.”

 

“No, no he wouldn’t. There has to be a clue in this somewhere, maybe this plan z,” Peter whispered.

“Don’t forget the envelope,” El reminded him worried. She took the letter and read it while Peter looked in the envelope.

What he found was a note, not handwritten so it couldn’t be traced, and a picture of Peter tied up as proof. The letter read,

“You know we want revenge. Give yourself up and your FBI friend goes free.” At the bottom was the address where the Marshalls picked up Peter. He knew they had moved but maybe they could find some clues there.

“You need to call Mozzie,” El told her husband.

El had one number that reached Mozzie, so they tried that, after it rang for a whole minute Mozzie answered, “Elizabeth.”

“Mozzie, it’s Peter, something’s happened,” Peter said nervously.

“What did you do Suit? Is Neal hurt?” Mozzie asked trying to keep calm.

“I was kidnapped, and it seems he traded himself for me. He left me a note, and said to tell you to execute plan z, that has to be some kind of rescue plan right?” Peter hoped.

“Oh no,” Mozzie said really worried.

“Mozzie?” Peter said alarmed.

“Peter,” Peter was shocked at Mozzie using his real name, “Plan Z means he knows he won’t live.”

“We need to find him now, can you help us?” Peter asked quickly.

“I’ll try, who are we dealing with?” Mozzie started talking a bit more calmly.

“Some gang called the Evil Emperors?” Peter said, not having heard of them before.

“This is bad, bad, bad. I will help only because it is Neal. Last time he dealt with them he barely got away alive. I’ll be over soon. And remember, it’s Haversham around the feds, got it?” He hung up leaving Peter in silence.

“Neal would have to be leaving me a code or something in this note. He always does,” Peter told Elizabeth.

She shook her head, “He seemed really rattled instead of his usual calm self. Not everything is always a code with him. He just really cares about you that much.”

Peter was still unsure but said, “We need to make a plan.”

Neal saw Peter was unhurt and let them cut his anklet. Of course they’d know about it. He knew he told Peter to not come after him but the anklet was his last claim on hope. He was put in a car, hands tied behind him. The car started rolling away, when he saw Peter’s head get uncovered. He was disoriented for a few seconds so he didn’t see the car roll out of view.

Neal resigned himself to his fate, his friends were safe. Peter had helped him out a lot and given him a great second chance, so he felt like he owed Peter his second chance.

Neal gave a small smile when one of the guys in the car, who was skinny with long black hair, started talking.

“You won’t be smiling for long once you know what we have in store for you. Lots of cold lonely nights, almost starving, daily beatings. I wonder what you’ll die from, lack of food or beatings,” he gave a sinister smile.

‘Hopefully it’s quick whatever it is,’ Neal thought to himself.

They arrived at an abandoned house miles from town. Neal got a decent glimpse of the outside before being dragged inside. The house looked like any normal house.  The basement was empty, with one tiny window letting him see if it was day or night, but it was much too small to escape.

His arms were still tied, and as soon as they got down the stairs the skinny man pushed Neal to the floor. The skinny man and another guy, who was also skinny but had blonde hair instead of black, tied one of Neal’s ankles to a ring in the wall.

‘Great. Another anklet.’

“There’s a drain there if you need to use the bathroom,” the blonde said before they both left.

In a few hours’ time he noticed it was dark out. He thought that maybe it would be quiet until daylight but he was wrong, what he guessed was around midnight the two skinny men came down.

“So, every midnight we will inflict a different torture on you until you die,” the blonde one mentioned.

“Sounds fun, right?” the black haired one asked.

Neal looked up and saw a little fire oven they had brought down along with a long stick. They heated up a fire and one of them eventually said, “We like to do this to everyone we torture, in case they escape, but also just to let them know there is no hope,  we own them,” Neal realized the stick was a brand. He prepared himself for the pain as they heated it up.

When they decided it was hot enough the blonde pulled it out of the fire while the black haired one pulled Neal’s shirt off.

‘At least it’s not on my face,’ he thought to himself.

“Hurry up Bill or we’ll have to reheat it,” the blonde mentioned to the one with black hair.

‘So at least one of them has a name,’ Neal stayed quiet while they prepared.

The blonde pushed the burning brand against Neal’s chest, right above his heart. Neal moaned in pain trying to not give them the satisfaction of a scream. The pain made him black out and when he awoke it was day light again. He looked down at his chest which had dried blood on it, he made out the marking it was EE in fancy lettering, the symbol of the Evil Emperors.

Neal started to get hungry and noticed there was one piece of bread and a cup of water on the floor next to him. He wasn’t sure if it was poisoned but he figured he’d risk it, it might be a faster death than torture.

He wondered what Peter was doing now, starting work for the day, catching criminals and moving on with his life.

He also wondered which pieces Mozzie had sold. Plan Z was giving Mozzie all of his possessions, and making him sell most of the stolen ones to let him have the money to move and retire because without a front, he couldn’t do too much other than hacking. Neal had a letter written to Mozzie for Plan Z. Even Mozzie hadn’t known what the letter said, all he knew is it was Plan Z and only to be executed when Neal was either dead or for sure retiring from crime. It was a goodbye, fitting of a criminal, and a show of friendship and caring, making sure Mozzie was taken care of money-wise.

Neal picked at his confinements. He tried to untie the wrist ties to make himself a bit more comfortable, but they wouldn’t budge. He sat there thinking to himself trying to focus on ways to not be hungry.

The hours passed and Neal found himself with company again.

“This one is my favorite,” the blonde one mentioned.

“You always say that Jim,” Bill said.

There were jugs of water they lined up.

“Time for your cure,” Jim smiled sadistically. Neal thought of what that could mean, and remembered he heard that term once before. A water cure. Basically, they force water down your throat so you either drink it all or drown. Then either the stomach bursts or the torturer beats them up to force them to throw up. ‘Hopefully my stomach will burst first try and I’ll quickly bleed to death or they will kick me in the chest stopping my heart.’

Unfortunately neither was the case. Neal had water shoved down him, and he felt like bursting, but when it was apparent he wasn’t going to throw up, Jim gave him a good kick in the stomach. Neal hurt a crack with a burst of pain, a rib cracked, and the water came right back up with a heave.

After a couple minutes they poured more water down his throat, which he coughed on, almost choking, but he got it down. When again his stomach did not expel the water on its own, this time Bill gave it a shot throwing Neal down onto his back and stepping down on Neal’s stomach, making the water come up like a fountain, almost drowning Neal running down his nose. He felt another snap and pain was everywhere, he couldn’t think anymore, the pain was just overwhelming.

One final time, they sat him up and got water into him but this time his stomach just heaved it back up before they were even done with pouring it in.

“Have a great night,” they laughed leaving Neal in a puddle of his own water vomit.

Neal laid there unmoving for hours. He dozed in and out, waking when the pain would spike. He eventually woke up and moved to sit up. He noticed they had placed a glass of water near him, he wasn’t sure if it was to keep him hydrated or to remind him of the night before.

He stared at it for hours, and when the sky became dark again, he began working on his hand ties some more. He managed to loosen them a bit, which didn’t help him out of it, and the rope still dug into his skin, but it did give his arms some more movement as they weren’t as close together.

‘This is my only chance, I told them I wouldn’t be back, I gave up my hope so they could all live peacefully, this is my quick chance out of this torture,’ Neal held the rope against his throat holding his hands behind his head to try to strangle himself. The air stopped and Neal felt himself black out and back in, he was having trouble holding it tight enough to finish the job.

Just as he was blacking out again, the two other men came downstairs for their nightly torture.

Neal was awoken with a hard slap across the face, “You think you can get yourself out of this? I don’t think so. Now sit up.”  
  
Neal gathered himself up and sat against the wall behind him. Had it been another minute or so longer he would have succeeded. Neal looked up and noticed a table was sat across the room. The two men had brought a meal down and it smelled delicious.

“You look kind of hungry, don’t you boy?” Jim said to him like he was a dog.

They at their meal and at the end said, “You want some table scraps?”

Neal looked at them unanswering, and they threw a piece of meat on the floor in front of him.

“Go on, eat it like the dog you are,” Bill laughed.

Neal didn’t move toward the food and after a few minutes of them waiting for him to go after it, Bill came up to Neal and picked him up and threw him back down on the food.

After he still didn’t eat it, Jim came up, “You will eat this you ungrateful piece of shit!” and slammed Neal’s face against the hard ground. Neal’s vision spun and he felt something wet on his upper lip. He checked with his hand and saw the red that dripped down. He touched his nose and felt the pain and odd angle it was bent. He tried to chew on the meat that they threw down but his body just didn’t have the energy. He passed out face first onto the piece of meat.

Neal awoke on what felt like leather, he moaned and opened his eyes. He saw that he was in the back seat of a car. He tried to sit up but was struggling because everything was spinning.

“Lay down Neal,” he heard a voice coming from the front seat.

‘Peter?’ Neal thought, ‘No I must have died, right? I don’t think I’m supposed to be in pain if I’m dead. Unless I’m in Hell. Then why the car?’ his thoughts rambled together making him confused. A few minutes later, he tried to sit up again and again got scolded.

“I didn’t save you just so you could ignore me, lie down,” the voice demanded.

Neal opened his mouth but all that came out was a series of coughs. When he finally caught his breath again he asked, “Peter?”

“Uh-huh,” Peter answered trying to find his way through traffic.

“Oh,” Neal responded before falling asleep once more.

When he next awoke, he felt the soft bed he was laying on and blankets covering him. He opened his eyes and looked around the room, ‘Hospital,’ he thought, noticing no one else was in the room with him.

He felt something around his ankle and lifted the blanket to look, ‘Anklet, of course. Like I’d run from a hospital…’ He noticed the bruising around his stomach, well the parts that weren’t covered in wrapped bandages.

He covered himself back up just as the door opened.

“Oh, Sweetie, you are awake,” El rushed to his side.

Neal looked at her unsure what to say, so she started telling him what she knew.

“Peter had to drop off some paper work at the office, he’ll be back soon. We’ve been here a day or so waiting for you to wake up. You were pretty exhausted. Peter tracked down the gang, and apparently they only send a few guys to work with those they kidnap so the team didn’t have to do much fighting. No one got hurt,” she assured him. She knew he had given himself up to save her husband but she also hated seeing him hurt. She wished Peter was there to help her. Neal hadn’t responded to her, he just looked at her with a foggy look in his eyes.

Soon after she thought that he came into the room.

Neal had his eyes closed drifting in and out of consciousness, but he heard a new voice in the room, it was Peter.

El didn’t have a chance to tell Peter that Neal had woken up because he instantly started telling her what happened at the office.

“They don’t trust me in there with them, plus because I was kidnapped in the first place I’m a witness too. Reese told me they can’t find anything on the rest of the gang, but the one I saw and the two Neal dealt with will be in jail for years. You wouldn’t believe what they did to him El. Branded, starved, almost drowned, beaten. I know we knew what the doctors said, but hearing the tapes from the scum it’s just terrible,” he explained. Neal heard the hurt and anger in Peter’s voice.

“Neal woke up earlier,” Elizabeth told her husband.

Peter looked at Neal and then back at his wife, “did he say anything?”

She shook her head, “I tried to talk to him but I wasn’t sure if he really understood what I was saying, he looked foggy.”

“Just because I’m foggy doesn’t mean I’m deaf,” Neal chimed up from the bed with his eyes still closed.

“Neal, how do you feel?” Peter brought his chair closer to Neal’s bed.

“Fabulous,” he said, being too drugged up to really feel anything.

“Neal, why did you give yourself up?” Peter asked curiously.

“I told you, they are dangerous, I wanted you safe,” Neal took a minute, “I’ve seen them kill before, mercilessly,” pain edged in his voice, reminding Peter that there was still a lot he didn’t know about Neal’s past, “There were 5 of us, and I’m the only one who made it out. I didn’t want to lose someone else to them.” He admitted, “I knew the FBI would take the long way around it, and I knew they’d be armed watching for anything suspicious when I did the trade.”

After a few minutes of silence, Neal asked, “I told you not to come after you, why did you?”

“First, you are my responsibility; I can’t have you getting hurt. Second, the Marshalls wouldn’t leave it be anyway. Third, the FBI is like a gang of our own, we watch out for all of our members. And last, you are my best friend,” Peter confessed, “I wasn’t going to lose you.”

Neal gave a soft smile to show appreciation.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, never do anything like that again. I don’t care who you are trading yourself for, wait for the FBI to handle it. Please,” he begged Neal.

They heard the door open, “Mon frère,” Mozzie smiled.

“Hey Mozz,” Neal smiled back.

Mozzie pulled a chair up next to Neal’s bed, “You know how I hate these places.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Neal told his friend.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else, especially after a Plan Z scare,” Mozz mentioned.

“Did you read it?” Neal asked curious. He didn’t care about most of his possessions, but there were a few he was hoping to keep.

“It’s still a secret. Locked in an unnumbered vault to an undisclosed name at the location it’s been at,” he tried to give as little to the feds as he could, even though it was only Peter in the room, “I helped the Suit find you.”

“You helped the feds?” Neal asked shocked.

“Anything for you, mon frère,” Mozzie smiled.

“So what is the damage?” Neal asks after they chatted about other events.

“Connecting everything the gang members told us, 3 broken ribs, probably from the water cure incident, as well as a few bruised organs, one burned brand mark, a broken nose from them throwing your face into the ground, and a few minor cuts and scrapes. Your throat was also a bit raw from the water cure and you did have a little bit of fluid in your lungs. The only thing that doesn’t equate to what they told us is the bruises on your throat. You will have to give a full testament eventually but can you tell me about the bruises?” Peter asked quietly.

Neal hadn’t expected to make it out of that house alive, especially not to have to tell Peter he tried to kill himself. After he was silent for a minute or so, Mozzie chimed up, “escape plan.”

Neal hoped Peter understood what Mozzie was saying, but Peter didn’t have a chance to say more because Mozz changed the subject in a shocked voice, “You were branded? That’s as bad as your tracking anklet. If they can see it you are a dead man.”

“It’s on my chest, so unless I need to go shirtless to something undercover, or someone strips me, I think I’ll be fine,” Neal assured.

Peter didn’t push the other issue but suggested, “You could maybe get a tattoo to cover it up once it’s healed.”

Mozzie just about hissed, “That’s just as bad! It’s an identification mark. No matter what your identity/name is, once they know Neal Caffrey or Nick Holden, or anyone else you claim to be has that tattoo, you won’t be able to go undercover again. All of your aliases will die!”

Neal laughed, “Well, I can’t go back so I either need a tattoo or I keep the brand.”

Mozzie shook his head and let it go.

A few days later, Neal was released home, but Peter and El took him into their home to heal a few more days.

Other than El and Peter taking care of him, everything returned to normal, Neal had a few nightmares, but often he would wake on the Burkes couch and know he was safe.

About a week after he got rescued Neal headed back to work, light duty of course, filing papers and looking at mortgage fraud cases. He knew even if he didn’t have healing injuries, Peter wouldn’t let him out of his sight for a while.

With his signature suit and hat, he looked almost normal walking into the FBI building.

Jones brought him some coffee and Diana put a little welcome back sign hanging on the front of his desk.

After a few minutes chatting, Peter called Neal up to his office with the FBI signature two finger point. He passed Hughes on the way who said, “Nice to have you back Caffrey.”


End file.
